TA.LES 

Ff\OM     ffuMBLE    LlFE, 

croieiisr    A. s n w o 


THE  LOST  CURL. 


PUBLISHED  BT  PERMISSION  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


PUBLISHED  BY 

PHILADELPHIA  CONFERENCE  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

AT  METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  BOOK  ROOMS, 
1018  AEOKSTEEET,  PHILADA. 


NOTE  TO  THE  SECOND  SEKIES. 


THE  reader  may  rest  assured  these  narratives  are 
substantially  true,  as  many  persons  now  living  in  the 
neighborhood  can  testify.  The  names  mentioned  are 
real  names,  both  of  persons  and  places.  Some  of  them, 
as  in  the  former  case,  have  arisen  from  my  connection 
with  the  Chapel  for  the  Destitute. 

I  am  surprised  and  thankful  for  the  reception  given 
to  the  first  eleven  Tales,  now  constituting  the  First 
Volume — nearly  half  a  million  of  which  have  been 
sold  in  a  few  months — and  the  urgent  request  of  many 
friends  that  I  would  furnish  them  with  more,  induces 
me  again  to  dip  into  my  diary,  where  many  more  yet 
remain. 

I  am  a  tradesman,  and  make  no  pretensions  to  liter- 
ary ability.  If  He  whom  I  desire  to  serve  condescends 
to  use  me  as  a  medium  of  good  to  others,  my  earnest 
wish  will  be  realized.  To  Him  my  prayer  has  been, 

"HOLD   THOU  MY  RIGHT  HAND." 

J.  ASHWOKTH. 

Rochdale,  1866. 


Fortune  telling  is  not  so  difficult  as  some  peo- 
ple imagine,  for  is  it  not  true  that 

"  Feathers  show  how  the  wind  blows, 
And  straws  tell  how  the  current  flows?" 

And  is  it  not  also  true  that,  in  some  shape,  we 
have  all  our  straws  and  feathers,  which  give  to 
the  observing  and  experienced  such  insight  into 
our  character,  as  enables  them  to  foretell,  with 
tolerable  certainty,  what  will  befall  us  in  after- 
days  ?  For  instance,  t  never  see  a  man  spend 
ing  his  money  and  time  in  a  public  house,  but  I 
know  that  man  is  sowing  dragon's  teeth,  and 
will  have  a  terrible  harvest ;  nor  do  I  ever  see 
a  woman  neglecting  her  own  household  duties  to 
gossip  with  her  neighbors,  but  I  know  her  child- 
ren are  not  likely  to  call  her  blessed.  I  never 
see  a  young  lad  with  a  cigar  or  short  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  who  has  turned  his  back  on  the  church 
or  the  Sunday-school,  and  can  talk  about  his 
father  as  the  "old  governor,"  and  his  mother  as 
the  "old  woman,"  trying  to  make  himself  look 
big  by  scoffing  at  things  serious,  but  I  know 
that  young  man  is  mixing  a  bitter  cup  for  some- 
body, but  one  more  bitter  still  for  himself.  Nor 
do  I  ever  see  a  young  woman  decked  in  showy 
finery,  trying  to  attract  everybody's  notice,  pre- 
ferring Sunday  walks  to  Sunday-schools,  places 


2  THE  LOST  CURL. 

of  amusement  to  places  of  worship,  and  foolish 
companions  to  fireside  duties,  but  I  am  certain 
that  sorrow  is  close  at  her  heels.  I  know  not 
how  many  books  have  been  written  on  fortune- 
telling,  but  I  know  of  one  book  that  tells  for- 
tunes with  amazing  certainty ;  and  in  one 
passage  it  declares,  that  WHAT  WE  sow  WE  MUST 
ALSO  REAP.  One  illustration  of  this  unerring 
truth,  we  give  in  the  following  narrative  : 

Some  of  my  readers  will  remember  that,  in 
my  younger  years,  I  resided  in  a  village  'just 
outside  the  town  of  Rochdale,  called  Cut-Gate. 
In  this  village  there  was  one  public  house  and  two 
grocer's  shops.  One  of  these  shops  was  kept  by 
an  elderly  widow,  of  considerable  energy  and 
spirit;  and,  to  help  her  in  the  business  and 
household  affairs,  she  obtained  the  assistance  of 
a.  relative,  a  young  female  about  nineteen  or 
twenty  years  of  age. 

The  appearance  of  this  young  woman  in  our 
rural  hamlet,  caused  a  little  stir  amongst  its  in- 
habitants; for  in  most  villages,  everybody  knows 
everybody,  looks  after  everybody,  and  minds 
everybody's  business,  sometimes  better  than 
their  own.  Had  she  gone  to  reside  in  some  large 
town,  she  might  have  lived  and  died  without  her 
next-door  neighbor  knowing  her  name.  But  not 

o  o 

so  in  our  group  of  country  cottages.  We  all 
soon  knew  that  her  aunt  called  her  Nanny,  and 


THE  I-O£1  CURL.  3 

i,he  young  women  soon  knew  that  she  held  her 
head  a  little  above  any  of  them,  besides  outstrip- 
ping them  in  her  style  of  dress;  forshe  was  often 
seen  in  light,  showy  gowns,  curls  or  ringlets,  and 
a  large  scalloped  shell  comb  to  fasten  up  her 
back  hair.  One  or  two  girls,  the  most  foolish  in 
the  village,  bought  large  combs,  and  tried  to  curl 
their  hair  like  Nanny,  but  none  of  them  could 
compete  with  her.  This  caused  not  a  little  envy 
and  mortification. 

But  it  was  not  our  females  only  that  were  in- 
fluenced by  the  new  arrival;  for  some  of  the 
young  men  began  to  pull  up  their  shirt-collars, 
stretch  down  their  coat-tails,  and  pay  more  than 
usual  attention  to  the  brushing  of  their  hats  and 
shoes,  with  a  distant  hope,  that  they  might  not 
be  entirely  overlooked.  After  some  time,  one 
of  these  young  .men  was  seen  arm  in-arrn  with 
Nanny,  taking  a  Sunday  walk;  and  from  that 
time  it  was  generally  understood  that  Robert 
and  Nanny  were  engaged. 

One  fine  Sunday  afternoon,  almost  all  the  in- 
habitants of  our  village  turned  out  to  see  what, 
perhaps,  had  never  been  seen  amongst  us  before. 
Two  horses,  saddled  and  bridled,  stood  at  the  gro- 
cer's door,  one  with  a  lady's  side-saddle  on. 
While  the  children  were  gathered  round  the 
horses,  and  the  villagers  stood  at  their  doors 
looking  for  the  riders,  out  came  Robert  and 


4  THE  LOST  CURL. 

Nanny,  both  finer  than  we  had  ever  seen  them 
before.  He  had  on  a  white  waistcoat,  and  she  a 
long,  light  dress  and  more  curls  than  ever.  He 
assisted  her  to  mount,  and  both  set  off  at  a  can- 
ter, quite  astonishing  every  one  of  us  ;  for  all 
were  looking  on  with  open  eyes  and  mouth. 
When  they  had  got  out  of  sight,  one  old  woman 
exclaimed, — 

' '  Well,  that  caps  all !  Tf  Robert  weds  yon  lass, 
drapers  will  have  to  give  him  long  credit.' 

"Yes,"  replied  another,  "he  will  not  need  to 
go  to  old  Thaniel  to  have  his  fortin  toud.  I  con 
tell  him  mysel." 

"Has  she  o  ly  brass,  I  wonder?"  observed 
the  first  speaker. 

"Brass !  Not  her,  indeed.  I  asked  her  aunt, 
and  she  said  she  was  as  poor  as  me;  and  I  am 
poor  enough,  everybody  knows,"  replied  the 
other.  "Besides,  what  can  he  have?  He  is  only 
a  working  man.  Twice  nought  is  nought,  and 
nought  will  not  keep  folks  on  horseback." 

It  was  about  this  period  that  the  circumstance 
took  place  which  gives  the  title  to  this  narrative. 
The  cottage  in  which  I  resided  was  two  doors  from 
the  grocer's  shop.  One  room  next  to  the  shop 
was  used  as  a  warehouse,  and  behind  this  room 
was  a  small  place,  called  the  parlor.  One 
afternoon,  when  I  was  about  seven  years  of  age, 
1  was  helping  in  the  warehouse,  and  was  terri- 


II IK  LOST  CURL.  0 

\Ay  frightened  by  ;-  loud  scream  in  the  little  par- 
lor. I  ran  to  see  the  cause,  and  there  stood 
Nanny,  the  very  picture  of  despair,  looking  at  a 
large  lock  of  her  hair  that  lay,  along  with  the 
curling  tongs,  on  the  floor.  Her  aunt,  having 
also  heard  the  scream,  came  running  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  Seeing  the  lock  of  hair  on  the 
floor,  she  began  to  scold  her  niece,  declaring  that, 
if  she  had  been  a  minute,  she  had  been  two  hours 
before  the  glass  curling;  and,  if  she  lived,  she 
would  have  something  more  to  scream  about 
than  the  loss  of  a  few  hairs  from  her  head.  Nan- 
ny, full  of  indignation,  turned  round  to  the  glass, 
and  began  combing  out  her  hair  for  a  fresh  start, 
minding,  however,  not  to  have  the  curling-tongs 
too  hot  the  next  time,  lest  she  might  burn  oflf 
another  precious  curl. 

Soon  after  this  event,  the  village  was  all  a^tir 
to  gaze  at  a  rather  merry  wedding  party,  going 
and  returning  from  the  church,  and  again  the 
wise  people  were  making  their  predictions.  One 
old  man  wondered  how  long  it  was  since  either 
bride  or  bridegroom  had  been  inside  a  church 
before;  observing  that  he  wished  them  much 
happiness,  but  something  more  than  a  wish  was 
required  to  make  people  happy. 

This  merry  wedding  party  was  that  of  Rob- 
ert and  Nanny.  I  have  no  objection  to  people 
being  merry;  I  like  to  see  proper  mirth  and  joy.* 


G  THE  LOST  CURL. 

but  I  do  think,  if  there  be  one  day  in  oui* 
lives  that  is  an  important  day,  it  is  that  on  which 
we  link  our  destiny  with  one  who  will  be  to  us 
a  blessing  or  a  curse.  A  fiddling  wedding  is 
very  often  a  foolish  wedding. 

For  several  months  after  the  marriage,  the 
young  couple  seemed  all  right,  but  it  was  re- 
marked that  Robert  did  not  attend  so  well  to 
his  work  as  formerly.  The  reason  of  this  was, 
he  intended  to  change  to-  some  other  business  or 
trade,  for  his  new  wife  did  not  think  a  black- 
smith was  sufficiently  respectable ;  and  at  her 
persuasion  he  left  the  ibrge,  and  commenced 
business  as  a  wholesale  dealer  in  malt. 

Respectable,  indeed !  Is  not  all  useful  labor 
respectable  ?  Is  there  not  a  real  dignity  in  such 
labor?  Many  a  man,  who,  through  pride,  has  left 
honorable  employment  for  questionable  specula- 
lation,  after  having  his  high  notions  rolled  in  the 
mud,  has  been  glad  to  creep  back  to  his  true 
position.  "Respectable  is,  as  respectable  does," 
is  a  maxim  which  applies  to  every  grade  of 
society. 

Soon  after  entering  into  the  malt  trade,  it  was 
evident  to  all  that  knew  Robert  that  a  great 
change  was  coming  over  him.  From  being 
sprightly  and  cheerful,  he  became  silent  and 
thoughtful.  To  get  custom,  he  spent  much  time 
\n  public  houses,  and  this  soon  began  to  tell  on 


THE   LOST  CURL.  / 

his  appearance.  He  began  to  prefer  the  public 
house  to  his  own.  He  was  deficient  in  what 
all  dealers  in  malt  especially  require — self-con- 
trol; and  very  soon  malt  controlled  him,  as  it 
has  controlled  millions.  Oh,  that  malt !  that 
malt !  If  one  could  collect  the  myriads  of  wretch- 
ed children,  whose  pale  faces  are  smitten  by  early 
sorrow,  or  stamped  with  the  impress  of  early 
crime,  and  ask  them  why  they  are  in  rags,  tat- 
ters, and  tears,  the  answer  would  be  "  MALT  !" 
If  one  could  stand  on  the  top  of  St.  Paul's,  and 
shout  with  a  voice  that  could  be  heard  in  every 
miserable  home  in  England,  and  ask,  *  Why  are 
you  miserable?"  the  answer  from  thousands  of 
breaking  hearts  would  be  "  MALT  !"  Or  if  the 
same  voice,  turning  to  the  hundreds  of  prisons, 
with  their  almostcountless  ruinedinmates,  should 
ask  why  these  pests  of  mankind  are  chained,  be- 
hind locks,  bolts,  and  bars,  the  response  would  be 
"  MALT  !"  Or  if  we  could  stand  on  the  brink  of 
perdition,  and  ask  the  lost  souls  what  brought 
them  into  that  place  of  endless  woe,  the  reply 
from  doomed  millions,  like  the  roaring  of  many 
thunders,  would  be  "MALT!"  No  tongue,  no  pen 
can  ever  describe  what  misery,  ruin,  sorrow,  and 
crime  MALT  has  produced. 

Robert,  finding  he  was  sinking  in  health  and 
circumstances,  wished  to  give  up  his  destructive 
business ;  but  no !  his  proud  wife  would  not  hear 


8  THE  LOST  CURL. 

a  word  of  it.  For,  though  she  knew  that  his  credit 
was  bad,  still  she  kept  up  her  style  of  dress  and 
showy  appearance ;  and  he,  like  many  a  poor, 
struggling  husband,  had  a  millstone  hung  round 
his  neck,  by  a  foolish,  showy,  proud  wife ;  aa 
many  a  hard-working,  honest  father  has  been 
made  to  carry  continual  sorrow,  through  the  ex- 
travagance and  vanity  of  proud,  showy  daughters. 

I  have  often  been  pained,  both  in  our  churches 
and  chapels,  by  seeing  the  dignity,  pomp,  style, 
and  evident  self- ad  mi  rat  ion  with  which  many  of 
these  gayjy  dressed  females  enter  the  house  dedi- 
cated to  humble  devotion  and  pr.iyer,  as  if  God 
Almighty  were  indebted  to  them  for  coming,  and 
to  hear  them  afterwards  descanting  on  the 
dresses,  and  especially  the  bonnets,  of  those  that 
were  present. 

"  Did  you  see  Mrs.  and  Miss  Edwards  at  the 
church  yesterday?  "  asks  one. 

"  Yes ;  what  style !  How  did  you  like  their 
bonnets  ?  "  asks  another. 

"Not  very  well;  I  don't  think  peach  trim- 
mings suit  her  complexion  ;  mauve,  or  magenta 
would  do  much  better." 

"  Did  you  see  Mrs.  Phillips  ?  She  likes  plenty 
of  color  in  her  trimmings.  Is  her  husband  doing 
much  business  ?  " 

'•  I  don't  know,  but  I  think  he  should  be,  for 
Bhe  costs  no  little  to  keep  up  her  pomp,  for 


THE  LOST  CURL. 


They  have  the  longest  bills 
Who  wear  the  most  frills." 


"  What  was  the  text  on  Sunday  morning  ?  for 
I  have  quite  forgot,"  asks  the  first  speaker. 

"Well,  you  are  as  bad  as  me,  for  I  don't  re- 
member the  text,  or  much  of  the  sermon,  only 
it  was  something  about  the  Jews." 

This  is  only  a  small  sample  of  what  may  be 
heard  every  week,  from  a  class  of  persons  who 
seem  to  consider  the  church  as  only  a  place  for 
showing  fashions ;  and.  it  is  quite  time  that  min- 
isters of  the  Gospel  speak  out  on  the  question,  for 
some  of  our  oanctuaries  are  becoming  places  of 
gayety,  almost  as  much  as  the  ball-room. 

While  I  do  not  belie  vein  a  religious  dress,  for  I 
don't  think  religion  consists  in  the  shape  of  either 
coat,  hat,  or  bonnet,  yet  I  am  persuaded  that,  as 
a  rule,  the  dress  is  an  indication  of  the  mind. 

If  one  quarter  of  the  time  was  spent  in  adorn- 
ing the  heart,  and  in  thoughtful  preparation  for 
the  worship  of  the  sanctuary,  that  is  spent  before 
the  glass,  in  decking  and  adorning  the  frail,  dy- 
ing body,  heaven  would  gain  many  precious  souls 
that  will  never  enter  there  ;  for,  I  firmly  believe 
that  many  of  our  females  think  more  about  the 
shape  of  their  bonnet,  than  the  salvation  of  their 
soul. 

Isaiah  spake  of  such  in  his  day.  Walking  with 
wanton  eyes  ;  mincing  as  they  go  ;  with  chains, 
bracelets,  and  mufflers  ;  head-bands,  tablets,  and 


10  THE  LOST  CURL. 

ear- rings;  mantles,  wimples,  and  crisping  pins. 
These  bad  all  their  doom  predicted.  It  came, 
and  come  it  ever  will,  for  "  the  Lord  hateth  a 
proud  look.''  How  immeasurably  must  such  a 
tawdry  thing  be  below  the  beauty  mentioned  by 
Paul,  adorned  in  modest  apparel  \  not  with  broid- 
ered  hair,  or  gold,  or  pearls,  or  costly  array,  but 
with  modesty  and  good  works.  Isaiah's  mincers 
have  ruined  thousands;  Paul's  beautiesnever  one. 
They  are  no  expensive  shams,  but  ornaments 
and  blessings  to  every  husband,  every  father, 
and  every  home.  They  are  infinitely  to  be  pre- 
ferred, as  wives,  to  mantles,  wimples,  and  crisp- 
ing-pins,  and  will  be  preferred  by  every  sensible 
man.  Well  had  it  been  for  Robert  had  he 
chosen  such  a  wife. 

Robert's  malt  business  was  a  failure.  His  cir- 
cumstances became  desperate,  and,  to  escape 
from  the  consequence,  he  fled  to  America,  leav- 
ing his  wife  to  do  as  she  could.  No  doubt  he 
did  wrong  here,  but  people  in  despsrate  circum- 
stances cannot  always  reason.  After  he  left,  the 
shop  was  broken  up,  her  husband's  father  took 
the  two  children,  and  for  many  months  Nanny 
lived  amongst  her  few  friends.  But  she  was  in 
good  health,  and,  had  she  bent  her  mind  to  her 
circumstances,  as  noble  souls  ever  will,  she  might 
have  found  some  honorable  way  of  earning  her 
bread.  This  she  was  too  proud  to  do,  however, 

10 


THE  LOST  CURL. 


.1 


Her  friends,  seeing  this,  one  by  one  cast  her  off, 
and  she  was  again  left  to  fight  her  own  battle. 

She  now  removed  to  Bolton,  and  for  some  time 
was  lost  sight  of.  But  it  appears  that  her  love  of 
finery  was  still  her  ruling  passion ;  for,  on  read- 
ing the  papers,  many  of  us  were  startled  by  see- 
ing an  account  of  her  imprisonment  for  stealing 
a  shawl  and  a  pairof  boots.  The  evidence  against 
her  was  'so  conclusiv-e,  that  she  was  sent  to  Liv- 
erpool, t'iere  to  await  her  trial  at  the  assizes. 

Poor  Nanny,  how  sad  was  I  when  I  heard  of 
thy  disgrace,  thy  dreadful  fall,  and  thy  impending 
fate.  I  could  have  wept,  and  gone  to  speak  a 
word  of  comfort  to  thee  ;  for  well  I  remem- 
bered ho\v,  in  my  boyish  days,  thou  patted  my 
young  cheek,  and  gave  me  many  a  penny  to  take 
thy  sealed  letters  to  thy  now  self-banished  hus- 
band. With  my  child's  heart  I  loved  thee,  and 
thought  thee  a  fine  lady ;  and  when  in  my  in- 
nocence, I  picked  up  the  hot  tongs  that  burned 
offj,hy  lost  curl,  I  felt  a  wish  to  put  back  thy  lock 
of  hair,  if  I  could  have  done  so.  As  my  young 
heart  wished  for  thee  then,  so  do  T  wish  for  thee 
now,  that  thou  hadst  gone  to  some  dear  place  of 
worship,  some  house  of  prayer,  cind,  in  meekness 
of  spirit,  bowed  before  thy  Go  1,  and  sought  peace 
with  Him  through  Jesus  Christ.  He  would  have 
saved  thee,  and  guarded  thee,  and,  instead  of 
being  immured  in  thy  silent,  gloomy  prison  cell, 

11 


12  THE  LOSr  CURL. 

thou  wouldst  have  been  a  happy  child  of  God  on 
earth,  or  a  blessed  saint  in  heaven. 

The  day  of  trial  came  :  the  heralds,  lawyers, 
and  jury  came  :  and,  with  whatever  indifference 
-mere  spectators  may  regard  an  assize  day,  to 
those  whose  fate  hangs  on  that  day,  and  whose 
hearts  almost  die  \vithin  them  when  the  trum- 
pet sounds  to  tell  the  judge  is  coming,  it  is  a 
very  different  thing.  I  have  witnessed  many 
such  scenes,  but  never  without  remembering 
that  another  and  a  last  trump  will  sound,  and 
then  the  Judge  will  come  to  judge  us  all. 

I  have  often  thought  of  poor  Nanny's  condi- 
tion on  the  day  of  her  trial.  It  is  pitiable  enough 
to  be  imprisoned  for  crime,  but  it  is  sad  indeed 
to  be  without  one  loving  heart,  or  one  single 
friend  in  the  wide,  wide  world.  To  love,  and  to 
be  loved,  is  true  life.  God  is  love,  and  the 
source  of  love ;  and  the  more  we  love,  and  es- 
pecially the  more  we  love  Him,  the  more  we  are 
like  Him.  The  devil  cannot  love,  and  tho^e  who 
are  most  like  the  devil  love  the  least. 

When  Nanny  was  brought  from  the  cf;li  to  the 
dock,  she  held  down  her  head  in  shame  and  sor- 
row. All  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  and  when 
the  counsel  for  the  crown  laid  before  the  judge 
and  jury  the  crushing  evidenoeof  her  crime,  there 
was  no  reply;  she  had  no  one  to  defend  her,  and 
the  verdict  against  her  was  "  Guilty! " 

12 


THE  LOST  CURL.  13 

The  judge  lifted  his  head  from  a  paper  he  was 
reading,  and,  in  a  voice  of  tenderness,  said,  "  My 
young  woman,  have  you  anyone  in  the  court  who 
can  say  anything  in  your  favor?"  No  answer. 

Again  he  asked,  "  Have  you  no  one  present  to 
speak  one  word  for  you?  "  Nanny  shook  her 
head,  but  gave  no  answer. 

A  third  time  he  asked,  looking  round  the  court, 
if  there  was  no  person  that  knew  her,  that  could 
say  anything  in  her  behalf?  Still  no  answer! 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then,  in  slow,  dis- 
tinct wor.ls,  said,  "My  young  woman,  the  sen- 
tence against  you.  is,  that  you  be  transported 
beyond  the  sea  for  seven  years." 

One  wild,  piercing  shriek,  which  sent  a  thrill 
of  pain  through  the  entire  court,  and  Nanny  fell 
senseless  in  the  arms  of  the  jailer. 

Soon  after  she  returned  to  consciousness,  one 
of  the  prison  officials,  with  a  large  pair  of  scissor 
in  his  hand,  came  to  cut  her  hair  to  the  length 
allowed  by  prison  rules.  Crash!  crash!  went 
the  shears  through  her  yet  long,  beautiful  tresses, 
and  the  poor  creature  was  made  to  look  like  a 
felon  indeed  ;  but  she' did  not  resent  it — she  did 
not  complain,  or  shed  one  tear,  while  her  hair 
was  being  cut  away.  Deep  sorrow  had  entered 
her  soul — she  was  humbled  to  the  dust — she 
was  meek  as  a  little  child.  Did  she  now  remem- 
ber her  aunt's  prediction  ? 

19 


14  THE  LOST  CURL. 

A  few  weeks  after,  the  transport  ship  came, 
and  the  transport  ship  went.  Many  on  board 
that  ship  had,  like  Nanny,  darkened  their  future 
prospects  by  early  follies  and  early  crimes  ;  and, 
like  her,  were  receiving  the  wages  of  sin,  having 
inflicted  on  themselves  and  others  unspeakable 
trouble.  Oh,  how  many  breaking  hearts  ha\e 
followed  the  wake  of  the  transport  ship!  How 
many  sobbing  or  wailing  partings,  never  to  meet 
again  !  Early  and  continued  piety  would  pre- 
vent these  dreadful  scenes.  If  none  but  the  true 
Christian — the  really  religious — were  impris- 
oned, transported,  or  hanged,  every  transport 
ship  would  rot,  every  prison 'would  tumble  into 
ruins,  and  the  drop  and  beam  of  every  gallows 
moulder  to  dust,  before  they  would  have  one 
single  soul  for  a  victim. 

We  know  little  of  poor,  exiled  Nanny  after  she 
left  her  native  land ;  only  that  she  became  very 
meek,  obedient,  and  kind  to  every  one,  and  that 
she  made  many  friends  on  the  passage  out,  and 
when  she  reached  her  destination.  We  also 
heard  that  she  never  smiled,  but  often  read  her 
Bible  ;  that  her  health  failed  her,  and  she  grad  • 
ually  sunk  into  a  comparatively  early  tomb.  Her 
body  now  sleeps  in  a  distant  settlement  and  in  a 
foreign  grave,  but  we  trust  that  her  bruised  soul, 
renewed  by  divine  gr.ice,  is  gone  to  where  graves 
and  penal  settlements  are  unknown. 

14 


THE  LOST  CURL.  15 

Poor  Nanny !  thou  art  not  the  only  one  that  a 
foolish  love  of  extravagant  finery  has  dragged 
down  to  infamy  and  irretrievable  ruin  :  thous- 
ands, like  thee,  have  had  to  wail  in  after  life. 
over  character,  friends,  virtue,  peace,  and  hope 
all  gone — gone  never  to  return,  in  this  world. 
And  yet,  this  fearful  whirlpool  is  still  sucking 
down  its  thousands,  who  are  bent  on  indulging 
in  this  destructive  infatuation.  Would  that  thy 
example  might  prevent  some  poor,  erring  crea- 
ture from  following  in  thy  fatal  wake ;  then  the 
object  of  this  narrative  will  be  answered. 

Who  communicated  to  Robert  the  intelligence 
of  his  wife's  banishment  we  knew  not,  but  we 
know  he  returned  from  America  some  time  after 
she  was  gone.  He  was  greatly  changed,  and 
changed  for  the  worse — malt  was  still  doing  its 
dreadful  work.  He  was  never  heard  to  mention 
his  wife,  or  to  make  the  slightest  allusion  to  her; 
not  even  when  madly  raving  under  delirium  tre- 
mens,  as  he  often  was.  We  also  know  that  in 
one  of  these  truly  fearful  conditions,  with  reel- 
ing reason  and  burning  brain,  he  wandered  wild- 
ly over  a  neighboring  rnoor.  where  he  had  often 

t/  fj 

played  in  his  happy,  innocent  childhood,  and  in 
that  frightful  state  of  mind  and  body,  he  leaped 
into  the  deep,  cold  waters  of  Lumb,  near  the 
valley  of  Cheesden. 

I  have  this  day,  October  27th,  1865,  stood  on 


16  THE  LOST  CURL. 

the  bank  from  which,  in  his  moment  of  madness 
he  plunged  into  the  dark,  deep  waters,  and  this 
day  talked  with  his  near  neighbor,  Henry  How- 
arth,  who  often  tried  to  calm  him  in  those  hours 
of  madness,  and  who,  after  the  inquest,  brought 
his  dead  body  to  the  house  from  which  he  helped 
to  carry  it  to  its  list  resting-place,  about  thirty 
feet  from  the  centre  of  the  east  window,  in  the 
grave  of  his  grandmother,  in  Spotland  church- 
yard. 

Poor  Robert !  poor  Nanny  !  Silks  and  satins, 
mantles,  wimples,  crisping-pins,  and  malt  have 
done  their  gloomy  work  for  you,  as  they  have 
done  for  thousands  :  and  never,  while  memory 
lasts,  shall  I  forget  the  lesson  taught  me  by  her 
who  is  the  principal  subject  of  this  narrative. 
The  prophecy  of  her  aunt  has  been  bitterly  ful- 
filled—  that  prophecy  uttered  on  the  day  Nanny 
screamed  over  her  lock  of  hair,  her  burned  Loai 
CURL. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  833  921     o 


LlbKAKY 


STRAEE  TALES  FROM  HUMBLE  LIFE. 

BY   JOHN    ASHWORTH. 


fine  Edition,  Four  Series,  cloth,  limp.  The  First  and  Second, 
bound  in  one  volume,  cloth,  boards,  or  extra  cloth,  gilt 
edges,  with  steel  portrait  of  the  Author ;  also  Third  and 
Fourth  in  one  volume,  gilt  edges. 

Thei«  remarkable  Tales  are  still  kept  as  Tracts,  of  whick 
nearly  Three  Millions  have  already  been  sold. 

FIRST  SERIES. 


1.  Mary;  a  Tale  of  Sorrow. 

2.  The  Dark  Hour.  [Men. 

3.  A  Wonder ;  or,   The  Two  Old 

4.  Sanderson  and  Little  Alice. 

6.  Wilkins.  [and  II. 

6*7.  The  Dark  Night.      Parts  I. 


8.  Joseph ;  or,  The  Silent  Corner. 

9.  My  Mother. 

10.  Niffand  his  Dogs. 

11.  My  New  Friends.  Part  I 

12.  My  New  Friends.          Part  1 1. 

13.  My  New  Friends.        Pa.-t  III. 


SECOND  SERIES. 


14.  Mothers.  [Prayer. 

15.  Twenty  Pounds;  or,  The  Little 

16.  All  is  Well. 

17.  My  Uncle;  or,  Johnny's  Box. 

18.  Old  Adam. 

19.  Ellen  Williams. 


20.  Trials. 

21.  Answered  at  Last. 

22.  Priscilla.  [Step. 

23.  Julia;  or,   The   First   Wrcnf 

24.  No  Cotton. 

25.  My  Young  Ragged  Friends. 


THIRD  SERIES. 


26.  The  Lost  Curl. 
17.  Emmott. 

28.  The  Widow. 

29.  Sarah ;  or,  "  I  Will  have  Him ! ' 
BO.  My  Sick  Friends.    Part  I. 

U.  My  Sick  Friends.    Part  II. 


32.  George. 

33.  James  Burrows. 

34.  John  and  Mary. 

35.  A  Sad  Story. 

36.  Lucy's  Legacy. 

37.  Edmund. 


FOURTH  SERIES. 


«8.  The  Golden  Wedding. 
89.  William  the  Tutor. 

40.  Fathers. 

41.  Little  Susan. 

42.  Old  Matthew. 
13.  Old  Abe. 


44.  Milly. 

45.  The  Fog  Bell. 

46.  Mrs.  Bowden. 

47.  Happy  Ned. 

48.  Harry. 

49.  A  Dancer. 


WALKS    IN    CANAAN. 

By  same  Author.    304  pages,  with  7  full-page  illustrations.    Clotb,  ot 
extra  cloth,  gilt  edges. 


»%"  Mr.  Ashworth's  Tales  and  Books  are  above  my  praise ;  they  »ra 
circulated  I  believe,  not  by  thousands,  but  by  millions,  and  the  result 
is,  that  the  name  of  John  Ashworth  is  a  Household  Word,  not  only  in 
the  lordly  halls,  but  in  the  lowly  home*  of  England." — Dr.  Outhrie. 


